


Bring Him Back

by popfly



Series: We've Got Ourselves a Series [2]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Edging, M/M, Orgasm Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 09:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16303007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: The team goes to LA, and Lorenzo takes Christian out of his head.





	Bring Him Back

**Author's Note:**

> The first story appeared to break Lo's slump, so maybe this one can break Yeli's?

The plane is quiet. Guys aren’t sleeping, it’s too early in the day for it. They’re just subdued. It’s understandable, of course, heading into enemy territory after a home loss, but it’s abnormal for their guys not to be loud and rowdy. 

As Lorenzo makes his way down the aisle from the bathroom, he takes stock. A lot of guys are plugged into their phones or laptops, listening to music or playing games or watching Netflix. Knebel and a couple of other guys have been trying to catch up on _Ozark_ , and he knows Suter’s halfway through a _Brooklyn Nine-Nine_ rewatch. 

The coaches are doing video review, and Lorenzo debates joining them. Braun is back there, and Kratz too. But he’s reached Christian’s row, and one glance down at him tells Lorenzo he’s not going anywhere. 

“Hey,” Lorenzo says, lowering himself into the empty aisle seat. Christian is slouched next to the window, and he’s got his giant headphones on so he maybe didn’t hear. But he thumbs at his phone screen and lowers them around his neck. 

For all that Christian is a tall guy, he’s good at looking small. Sometimes Lorenzo likes that - he thinks of the way Christian had looked a couple nights ago, pressed against his door and blinking up at Lorenzo through his eyelashes - but sometimes it makes Lorenzo ache inside for whole different reasons. 

This is one of those times. With his baggy sweatpants and hoodie, and his curls flopping over his forehead, he hurts a little to look at. The protectiveness Lorenzo feels for him can be overwhelming.

“What’s up?” Christian asks. They don’t always sit together on the plane or the bus, because everyone tries to mix it up as much as possible. They sit with different guys, eat with different guys, work out with different guys, it’s part of what works so well for the team. There are natural pairings or groupings, of course, but no one is a clique.

“You were frowning pretty hard at your phone,” Lorenzo says. He keeps his voice pitched low; the guys around them all have their headphones, but you never know.

“Oh.” Christian says, and swipes at the screen again. He shrugs. “Yeah. Talking to my mom.”

“You still doing dinner?”

“If everything else stays on schedule, yeah.”

Lorenzo waits. It’s a good tactic with Christian. He’s a pretty open guy, you just have to give him time when something’s getting to him.

“I wanted to go home,” he finally says. It’s not sullen, or whiny, just a statement of fact.

“Ah.” Lorenzo had been to Christian’s house the last time they were in LA. He’d had everyone over for a bit, to show off the views, the beach, the sound-system. Lorenzo stayed later than everyone else, and got to see a lot more than that. He distinctly remembers the master shower.

“I get it,” Christian says, pulling Lorenzo from his memories. “The playoffs, we all need to focus, staying together in the hotel is important. Just sucks.”

“At least you get dinner, right? Some family time away from the park?”

Christian nods, then cocks his head. He’s got that look on his face, one Lorenzo has seen plenty of times, in multiple different situations.

“What?”

“You want to come?”

There’s a couple of beats of silence, while Lorenzo processes. They’ve met families already; ball club as tight as theirs, everyone knows everyone and they all get along. It’s not uncommon for guys’ families to host a bunch of teammates when they’re in different cities. It’s great for bonding. So Lorenzo could shrug it off, nod and say “sure” like it’s no big deal. But there’s a blush coloring Christian’s cheeks, and he looks so vulnerable.

“Of course,” Lorenzo says, and Christian smiles. They’re angled towards each other in the seats, and Lorenzo knows no one on the plane would care, but he’s still careful when he reaches out and puts his hand on Christian’s knee. “If your family doesn’t mind, I’d love to come.”

Christian’s face goes a little brighter red, and he glances down at his phone. “Uh, my mom actually invited you.”

That does something warm and funny to Lorenzo’s heart, something he’s not quite ready to examine. He squeezes Christian’s knee, sweatpants soft under his fingers, until Christian looks back up at him.

“Can’t wait,” Lorenzo says, and smiles. Christian smiles back.

“Movie?” he asks, hopeful and sweet. Lorenzo nods, and gets up to grab his stuff. Christian has been bringing a headphone splitter on the road for a while, but they don’t always get to use it. It’s good now, though, leaning close with the armrest up, Christian’s iPad balanced between two tray tables. He’s got mindless action to watch and Christian’s warmth all along his side. It’s a good flight.

o o o

Dinner goes well, too. Christian’s mom is funny, sarcastic in a way that Christian clearly tries to emulate but can’t quite match. His brothers tease him mercilessly, so Christian blushes the whole meal, and Lorenzo can just sit back and watch the show. And enjoy the view.

Lorenzo excuses himself to the bathroom and sneaks by the server station to pass off his credit card. He knows Alecia will put up a fight later, but he doesn’t mind.

He’s right, she chides him almost all the way back to the hotel, but when she isn’t glancing back in the rearview mirror, Christian nudges his knee against Lorenzo’s and slants him a smile. He’d pay twice what the meal had cost, at least, for the warmth that spreads through him at that.

The goodbyes are prolonged, despite the fact they’ll all see each other at the ballpark tomorrow. Alecia hugs Christian extra long, murmuring to him. He nods against her shoulder, and then she lets him go and turns to Lorenzo.

When she hugs him, she whispers, “He’s okay, right?” Lorenzo can understand the concern. Christian’s slumping, and though that’s completely normal in baseball, it’s not the best time for it. Lorenzo knows it’s been weighing on Christian, the October numbers looking extra bleak after the September he had. He knows the MVP chants are starting to feel less like celebration and more like pressure. But the fact that Alecia is checking on Christian with Lorenzo … He squeezes her extra tight.

“We got him,” he says.

Alecia pulls away, and then she winks. “ _You_ got him.” Lorenzo can’t help the startled laugh that bursts out of him. But he keeps his voice firm when he responds.

“I got him.”

o o o

Once the elevator doors close, Christian asks, “What did my mom say?”

Lorenzo shrugs. “Just giving me shit about the bill again.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Lorenzo looks over. Christian’s fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. Lorenzo reaches out to stop him, and doesn’t take his hand back.

“I wanted to.”

The smile that spreads across Christian’s face makes heat pool in Lorenzo’s stomach. There’s no question that Christian is coming back to Lorenzo’s room. He won’t stay. Not in the hotel, not with press and a game the next day. But it’s still early enough that they’ll have plenty of time.

Which is good, because Lorenzo has plans.

They start as soon as the door clicks behind them, Lorenzo pushing at Christian until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and Lorenzo can kneel between his legs. Christian’s eyes are dark, pupils blown already.

Lorenzo unties Christian’s shoes, pulling them off and shoving them aside. His socks go next, and then Lorenzo curls his hands over the tops of Christian’s bare feet, pressing his thumbs into the arches.

Christian’s eyes slip closed, and then flutter back open. The bone-deep desire to take him apart sweeps through Lorenzo, and he has to hold himself still and steady so he doesn’t rush things. They’re going to get there, but Lorenzo wants to take his time.

He slides his hands up Christian’s shins, gliding over the worn-soft sweats, the jut of Christian’s knees, the heat and firmness of his thighs. He has to ruck up Christian’s hoodie to get to the drawstring of the pants, and he gets distracted by Christian’s stomach.

He’s so narrow, and lean, but there are parts of his body that show off the time he spends in the gym. His biceps, his quads, and his abs especially. But sat like this, shoulders rolled forward and hands clutching the edge of the mattress, the hard muscles are partially obscured by tiny rolls of smooth, pale skin. Lorenzo literally cannot help himself, he has to lean forward to bite.

Christian squirms, and Lorenzo can feel Christian’s gasp against the top of his head. They’ve never talked about it, but Lorenzo figured out pretty quickly that Christian likes a little pain. Nothing extreme, but Lorenzo gets to use his teeth and the blunt edges of his nails in all kinds of interesting ways.

He does so now, scraping his nails over Christian’s hips as he slides his sweats and underwear off, leaving lines of bright pink in their wake. When he’s leaning away, dropping the clothes behind him, he yanks off his shirt and tosses that too, so that when he leans back in, their bare skin brushes together.

Christian’s thighs are another favorite spot of Lorenzo’s. High up, near his groin, where they’re soft and bruise easily under his mouth. He leaves a few marks, dragging his stubbled chin as he sucks and bites, listening for the changes in Christian’s breathing, how it speeds up or hitches. It goes ragged the closer Lorenzo gets to his cock.

Lorenzo tries to ignore it for as long as he can, but the carpeted floor is unforgiving, and he does have to play a game tomorrow. There’s a specific noise he’s waiting for, his cue, and it takes one more nip at Christian’s inner thigh to get it. But as soon as it slips out - the high, helpless whimper that makes Lorenzo’s blood boil - he ducks his head and takes Christian’s cock into his mouth.

He keeps his hands on Christian’s thighs, partially to keep them spread wide enough so Lorenzo has room to maneuver, but partially to feel them tremble as Lorenzo takes him deep.

Christian’s hands are still clenched on the edge of the bed, but he lets go to slide them up Lorenzo’s shoulders, one curling around the back of Lorenzo’s head. “Fuck,” he groans.

Lorenzo’s right knee twinges slightly, but he’s not quite ready to move on. Still, he gets a hand up under Christian’s hoodie, pushing until Christian is lying back on the bed. He gives a couple more long, slow sucks, working his tongue on the underside of Christian’s cock, before he pulls off.

“Get up on the pillows,” he says, and Christian scrambles to comply. Lorenzo kicks off his shoes, pulls off his jeans and socks and underwear, so he’s completely naked when he crawls up onto the bed between Christian’s legs. As good as Christian looks in his overlarge hoodie, cock red and wet and hair disheveled, legs long and bare and spread, Lorenzo wants it gone.

“Take this off,” he says, plucking at the front pocket. Christian’s abs flex as he sits up to pull the sweatshirt up over his head, and then he lies back and reaches for Lorenzo.

It’s the first time they’ve kissed in days, and it’s not like they haven’t had dry spells since starting this, but it feels more desperate than usual. It’s the way Christian is moving under Lorenzo, restlessly shifting back and forth. Lorenzo wants him desperate, but not this bad, not yet. He tries to gentle Christian with his hands, pressing Christian’s shoulders into the pillow, slowing the pace down bit by bit.

Kissing Christian is one of Lorenzo’s absolute favorite things. He’s so open and responsive, and vocal. Not noisy; nothing he does is loud or over-the-top. But he’s shameless in the way he expresses his pleasure. The sense of achievement Lorenzo feels every time Christian gasps or shudders or moans - it’s like getting a good hit, or pulling a home run ball back, maybe even better.

They’re tangled up with not a lot of space between them, but Lorenzo gets his hand wedged in enough to wrap his hand around Christian’s cock. Everything is damp with sweat, but not slick enough yet to ease all the friction. Lorenzo keeps his grip tight, his strokes slow, and nips at Christian’s jaw when Christian’s mouth goes slack around a groan.

Lorenzo can read Christian pretty easily now. He has a lot of tells. The way his body tenses, his eyes squeezing shut. He bites his lip, and Lorenzo eases up, sliding his hand to Christian’s hip and shifting back so there’s nothing for Christian to rock up against.

Christian takes a few short, sharp breaths through his nose, and then opens his eyes.

No command is necessary yet, there’s understanding and acknowledgement in Christian’s gaze. He flexes his fingers against Lorenzo’s back and then nods, and Lorenzo takes him in hand again. 

This time he thumbs the tip of Christian’s cock, gathers a bead of precome and smears it around. Christian’s breath goes ragged and he bucks his hips. It’s playing dirty, pulling that move out so early when he knows what it does to Christian, but he can’t help it. It works Lorenzo up almost as much, and he curls his toes in the sheets as he twists his hand around Christian’s cock, brushing his own with the backs of his fingers.

When Christian’s knees draw up and press tight around Lorenzo’s waist, he backs off again.

Christian makes a plaintive noise in the back of his throat, and twists his hips to try and nudge Lorenzo’s hand back into place.

“Stay still,” Lorenzo says, and Christian immediately stops moving. It gets to Lorenzo every time, how willing Christian is to cede control. He has to drop his head and breathe into Christian’s neck for a moment.

“Good,” he says next, and a shiver works its way through Christian’s body. Lorenzo gives him a quick nip under his jaw, not hard enough to mark, but enough to make Christian gasp.

Lorenzo takes him through it a couple more times, working him up and up until he tenses, and then stopping and kissing him until he comes back down.

Then he goes a little further, not stopping when Christian tenses up. He keeps going, fingers tight around Christian’s cock, and leans down to say into Christian’s ear, “Don’t come.”

He pulls back to watch Christian blink his eyes open. They’re not quite focused, flicking back and forth over Lorenzo’s face. Lorenzo keeps stroking, and Christian grits his teeth together, hissing through them.

“Good, good,” Lorenzo chants, letting go and sitting back on his heels. Christian’s hands, which had been gripping Lorenzo’s shoulders, fall limply to the bed. His thighs are non-stop trembling, and Lorenzo pets them, waiting until Christian’s body relaxes and he sighs before reaching for his cock again.

There’s a breaking point, and Lorenzo knows exactly where it is. He knows how far he can push, and he takes Christian up to that edge again and again. He switches their positions, turns Christian onto his side and slides in close behind. He’s drenched in sweat now, salt and heat under Lorenzo’s mouth. The high, tight whimpering is back, and not stopping. Lorenzo strokes himself, then guides his cock between Christian’s thighs. Then he takes Christian in hand again.

“God,” Christian says. His voice is wrecked, and Lorenzo has to squeeze his eyes closed, forehead slipping back and forth against the nape of Christian’s neck.

When Christian clenches his legs tight, spine almost popping as it locks up, Lorenzo bites a trail up Christian’s neck to his ear and says, “Go.”

Christian cries out, a sharp, raw sound, and his cock pulses in Lorenzo’s hand. It pushes Lorenzo right over the edge, and he shudders against Christian’s back and comes messily between his legs.

He shifts back and pulls Christian down onto the pillows immediately. There’s a wet spot, and they need to shower, but Lorenzo knows how out of it Christian gets after Lorenzo works him over this way, and Lorenzo needs to bring him out of it, back into the present. 

Sure enough, Christian’s eyes are glassy and wet, looking up at Lorenzo but not really seeing him. Lorenzo wipes at Christian’s temple, where tears have tracked into his hairline, then strokes down the side of his face with his thumb.

“Hey, hey, Chris,” Lorenzo says. He used to get worried when Christian got like this, but now that he knows how to handle it it doesn’t freak him out anymore. He’s honored he gets to witness it, honestly, to be the cause of it as well as the person who gets to gently draw Christian back out.

It happens slowly this time, his eyes clearing as Lorenzo strokes his cheekbones, the hinge of his jaw, nips gently at his lower lip. Finally he lifts a hand and curls it around the back of Lorenzo’s neck, tugging, wordlessly asking for a real kiss.

Lorenzo gives it to him, but keeps it light and pulls back after a couple of seconds.

Christian smiles up at him, wide and satisfied. “Holy shit,” he says. His voice is still wrecked.

Lorenzo laughs, can’t help kissing him again. “Want to shower?”

“Don’t know if I can stand.” Lorenzo grins, and Christian rolls his eyes.

“I’ll help you. We’re filthy.”

Christian’s smle goes crooked, and it’s Lorenzo’s turn to roll his eyes.

They make it to the bathroom, both on shaky legs, and Lorenzo turns the tap as hot as it will go. The water pressure is terrible and the tub is kind of small, but Christian is warm and clingy, so Lorenzo can’t complain too much.

Christian has to go back to his room soon, and Lorenzo has to find a clean spot on his bed for himself. Tomorrow they have press, and then they have to play a pretty important game. But tonight, Christian is smiling and clear-eyed, laughing as he shampoos his hair, and Lorenzo feels like he’s taken care of everything that he needs to.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, families travel with the team for playoff games, and Lorenzo has one of those. I'm pretending he doesn't for the sake of porn. *shrugs*


End file.
